


You Don't Rush Perfection

by Wye (qt_myung)



Category: GOT7, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8267435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qt_myung/pseuds/Wye
Summary: They’re taking a stroll through the park when Mark suddenly turns on his heel to face Jackson, face solemn, and wordlessly drops to one knee, and Jackson just knows that this is it. This is the moment he’s been anticipating.





	

**Author's Note:**

> One of my older works that I'd posted on AFF for Jackson's 22nd birthday ^^

They’re taking a stroll through the park when Mark suddenly turns on his heel to face Jackson, face solemn, and wordlessly drops to one knee, and the younger boy just knows that this is it. This is the moment he’s been anticipating.

Mark has been dropping hints none too discreetly for the past couple of weeks now.

Jackson may be a little slow on the upkeep sometimes, not being the brightest bulb in the bunch – he’s kind of always taken pride in being brawn over brains anyway since Mark’s the more intelligent one of the two, and two smart people in a relationship is one smart person too many – but even a blind man would’ve been able to see what the redhead’s trying to do – intentionally too, may he add.

No chill, the blonde thinks. Mark needs to level up his ninja game.

Jackson reckons it truly starts off on a normal Sunday afternoon. It was an unassuming spring day in late March; the two of them were cooped up in the elder’s apartment due to the unexpected snowstorm – that brought majority of the city’s activities to a grinding halt – raging outside the window. They were each doing their own thing, Mark helping his parents out in the kitchen while Jackson stays snug under the covers in the redhead’s bed.

He doesn’t think too much when Mark walks in and sits down next to a texting Jackson lying on his back, forcefully peels one of the younger’s hands off his cell phone – thus nearly causing said device to smack him right in the forehead if not for his ninja-like reflexes saving his phone (and his face) – and proceeds to play with said abducted hand’s fingers. Jackson simply writes it off as Mark being, well, Mark again, lapsing into one of his psychotic modes that till now even he can’t fully comprehend.

He lets Mark do his thing – this random finger-tugging and interlacing thing and sliding the loop he made with his thumb and forefinger over each of Jackson’s fingers as though he’s playing ring toss, knowing that the elder will eventually bore himself out. Lo and behold, Mark soon drops the hand and skips out of the room barely half a minute later.

On hindsight, Mark – even with all his hand fetishes and weird quirks and what not – has never done this before. It doesn’t help that the elder was exceptionally preoccupied with his fourth finger aka. his ring finger, and– Wait. What? Since when does which finger Mark was playing with have anything to do with this? Jackson shakes his head and clicks his tongue in annoyance, chastising his overactive brain for getting ahead of himself.

Ten days later, the blonde finds Mark curled up on his living room couch looking at photographs from Jae Bum and Jin Young’s wedding pictorial. The couple had gotten married last September – in a quaint little church in Provence with a gorgeous stained-glass chapel with a small gathering of family and friends specially flown in for the private event, all thanks to the infinite depth of Jae Bum’s mogul father’s Kiton K50 pockets – and had done a photoshoot at a bunch of different places that marked significant milestones in their relationship. The newlyweds had finally decided to return to harshly lacklustre reality and resurfaced after disappearing off the radar for an entire month to go on their honeymoon vacation in the paradisiacal Bahamian tropics. Jin Young “got his shit together” – as Jackson crudely puts it – and sent Mark a URL link to the pictorial’s digital album via Facebook and the elder spent the entire morning and afternoon gushing over the photogenic pair and the quality of their photos.

The ‘Gosh! I would love to have my wedding like this, too. Don’t you agree?’ directed at the younger and the insinuations that came with the seemingly innocent statement did not go unheard. Mr. I’m-Super-Straightforward-And-Almost-Borderlining-Savage-Cause-I’m-A-Californian-Sunshine-Boy-Like-That Mark Tuan Yi-En never compliments anything. The redhead must’ve either been extremely impressed or he’s trying to hint at something. This time, Jackson confidently assumes it’s the latter. That is when Jackson really begins to take notice, and suddenly he begins to see everything with pristine clarity.

He plays along when Mark lists off romantic couple vacation spots even though the elder can barely get a week off a year with his busy office job and nods enthusiastically like what clueless Jackson will do at pictures of recommended travel destinations from websites Mark finds off the Internet. (“The Maldives sounds pretty good but it’s such a cliché though, you know what I mean?” Jackson would reply innocently when asked of his opinion. “Why not the Fiji Islands instead?”)

He also pretends not to see the wedding package brochures Mark blatantly lays out on the coffee table when he transforms into the domestic boyfriend he secretly is and sporadically pops into the elder’s apartment to help him “live humanely”. Instead, he chooses to rearrange every single item on the table but the stack of magazines, even though the thought of having a dream wedding – on a fine autumn day in the Cathedral of Immaculate Conception in Hong Kong with his family and loved ones bearing witness – with the love of his life makes him giddy on the inside.

The next step is to attempt to wheedle information out of Mark’s best friend, on several occasions, but each (unsuccessful) time Jae Bum only throws his head back – Jackson imagines – in a loud guffaw and unhelpfully answers a cryptic, Oh, you’ll see before hanging up on him to tend to his needy, high maintenance husband the blonde can hear whining for attention in the background.

Even when he changes target and goes after his own best friend instead, Jin Young merely tries to sit him down over lunch and give him the mum speech on the importance of having his mind and heart properly aligned and how to be emotionally prepared to take the final leap and commit to a life-changing event. (“As much as I trust Jae Bum’s taste in people since he has picked me, after all,” Jin Young had said haughtily, “You need to know for yourself, without doubt, that Mark is the right guy you want to spend the rest of your life with.”) Completely irrelevant and the blonde leaves not knowing anything more that he doesn’t already know.

Stupid Im Jae Bum, Jackson curses, and stupid Park Jin Young. Just because they’re all married and settled down and happily lost in their little bubble of romance doesn’t mean they can play him in this manner. Do they not realise he’s facing an existential crisis right now?

Stupid Mark Tuan Yi-En; he caused all this.

Jackson’s always hated being left out of the loop and this time, he definitely knows his boyfriend is keeping something from him yet he can’t even get mad at Mark for hiding secrets because he’s so hopelessly and stupidly in love with the elder he still melts into a puddle of goo whenever the redhead flashes his pearly canines at him.

~~~

“Gaga, wake up,” Jackson hears Mark call from afar. The blonde assumes he’s by the door, leaning against the threshold with arms folded across his chest like how the elder usually is when coming to wake him up, but doesn’t bother to check because he’s too comfortably cocooned in his warm, snugly nest. “Come on, get up.” The elder cajoles, “We’re going to be late.”

The younger smacks his lips and turns onto his side. “What time is it?” He mumbles with his eyes still tightly shut, voice muffled by swathes of thick winter blankets – even though spring is almost through with its run and summer fast approaching.

“Nine,” Mark chirps.

The blonde lets out a whine and a string of incoherently muttered curses, burrowing himself deeper into his blankets. “It’s too damn early, Mark. Go home, go back to sleep.”

Mark pads over, thick socks practically silent against the parquet, and throws himself onto the mattress belly first, flopping down next to his boyfriend. He rolls close and semi-drapes himself over the younger. “Are you sure you don’t want to get up?” He coos into the younger’s ear. “Because I’ve prepared a surprise for you. You wouldn’t want everything to go to waste now, would you? I put a lot of effort into this, too.”

The puzzle pieces in Jackson’s head click and it jolts him wide awake. “Give me five minutes!” He shouts decidedly, flinging the duvet to the side. He jumps up so quickly he nearly throws Mark off the bed instead. Yelling out a quick apology to his boyfriend over his shoulder, he sprints to the bathroom with a towel and fresh underwear in his hand.

Jackson emerges from the bedroom ten minutes later. His boyfriend’s in the kitchen, behind the counter, conversing pleasantly with his mother who’s seated on the other side when the blonde comes barrelling in dressed in, well, all black (again, as usual). But at least his hair is blown-dry and styled and he even wore a button down shirt and polished Oxfords. An array of thick silver rings adorns his fingers and earlobes and brown leather bands strapped around his wrists complements the heavy gold Rolex that sits against his wrist bone. He looks put together; perhaps almost good enough to eat.

Or be proposed to, the blonde reckons dryly.

Mark isn’t looking too shabby himself. He has on a creamy white turtleneck sweater that contrasts just barely with his alabaster skin, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he prepares breakfast, and comfortably tight black denim. He has on his diamond studs – a gift from Jackson for his 25th birthday last year – on his lower lobes but isn’t wearing his usual dog-tag necklaces, replaced with a single silver chain from which hangs an inconspicuously small Cross.

The redhead looks so perfectly in place with his mother and his house and the rest of his life and universe, like he’s always meant to be there, that a sharp twang of nostalgic pride suddenly hits and clogs his nasal cavity and Jackson pauses by the threshold for a whole minute just to admire the picture perfect scene and relish in the serendipitous bliss that washes over him. He only moves again when Mark suddenly looks up from what he’s doing – as though he feels like he’s being watched – and grins as bright as a thousand suns.

The elder motions for Jackson to take a seat and jerks his chin towards the mug of black coffee sitting on the counter. The blonde does so, singing a bright “Good morning, mummy~!” to his mother and pecking her on the cheek and leaning over the counter to do the same to his boyfriend before accepting his drink gratefully with cold hands. He moans in appreciation when the still piping hot liquid goes down his throat and warms his insides, spreading warmth throughout his body.

Mark is done cooking by the time Jackson makes it halfway through his caffeine fix and he sets the full plate in front of the younger, rounding the counter to fill the bar stool on the other side of the blonde.

“Mmm, it looks delicious.” Jackson licks his lips greedily as he eyes the delicious spread before his eyes. It isn’t everyday that Mark drops by and spends the extra effort to whip up a full American-styled breakfast for his boyfriend whom he knows appreciates his cooking. The elder’s demanding job often requires him to be behind his desk before Jackson manages to crawl out of bed and usually the blonde just has toast with peanut butter on the way to work, of if he has slightly more time to spare, a couple mouthfuls of whatever his mother prepared for his dad and herself.

The blonde takes a bite of the scrambled eggs and his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when the flavours explode on his tongue. He licks his lips and beams at the elder. “Yum.”

“Did you bring your coat?” Mark asks, scanning eyes doing a quick survey of the younger as he happily munches on his food.

Jackson looks up with his cheeks stuffed full of half-chewed hash brown. “What?” He warbles, earning a look of disapproval from his mother who cuffs him on the back of his head, nagging at him about manners, before excusing herself to get started on some household chores.

“Your coat,” The redhead repeats slowly, as though he’s talking to a child. “The weather report says it’s going to get chillier throughout the day. Might even go below ten by night time.”

Jackson’s eyes light up like jewels and he slowly lowers his cutlery. “Where are we going?”

“Places,” Mark says mysteriously, motioning for the other to continue eating. Jackson wrinkles his nose. He picks up his cutlery again but his hands still don’t move.

“And where exactly is that?”

Instead of answering, Mark wags his finger at Jackson and trots off into the younger’s bedroom, returning with a lightweight dark grey woollen coat draped over his forearm. He gently lays it over his own coat – a cut similar to Jackson’s (because the latter thought it would be hilarious to get couple items) but in a warm camel shade – that he carelessly threw over the marble counter. “There,” the redhead says. “Now finish your food so that we can go.”

It prompts Jackson to wolf down the rest of his breakfast, carelessly tossing the utensils into the sink when he’s done. Mark clucks his tongue and makes a move to round the sink when he’s stopped by the younger who latches onto his wrist and pulls him back.

“My mum will wash that later; we don’t have time for that right now!” The blonde urges impatiently, gathering all their belongings in his arms. “We need to leave. You said we were running late!” He tows Mark over to the door even before he can regain his footing. The redhead barely has time to cram his feet into a random pair of sneakers – him and Jackson wear the same size anyway – and yell a goodbye to Jackson’s mother before he is dragged out of the front door by his overly excited puppy.

~~~

They’re walking back to Mark’s apartment that’s two neighbourhoods away because the elder very brilliantly (note the sarcasm here) left his car keys at home and Jackson’s dad is out with the family car so they don’t have a spare to borrow to use.

When asked if they could simply take public transport because you know I absolutely abhor walking, my short legs are not built for it, Mark simply shakes his head and flicks the younger’s nose, informing him that walking increases blood circulation and boost immune systems. Jackson, the ever-health conscious freak, shuts up immediately.

“Hey Gaga,” Mark says out of the blue. They’re walking down a nearly deserted sidewalk along a path that leads to Seoul Forest because the shorter route to Mark’s apartment cuts straight through the park. The elder is slightly ahead, tugging at their connected hands lightly to lead the way. He’s feeling exceptionally eager today, Jackson can tell, from the way there’s a slight skip in his step. The blonde can almost feel the excitement thrumming in the other’s veins under his skin.

Jackson’s gaze is fixated on the concrete pavement as he walks, careful not to tread on any cracks, and very occasionally he’ll rub his thumb over the back of Mark’s hand, warming up the cool skin. “Hmm?” He hums, distracted, eyes darting and following every step his feet take.

“Do you know what day today is?” The redhead asks.

The unexpected question throws Jackson off-guard and he panics. He hopes Mark hadn’t picked up the twitch of his fingers and the slight moisture trickling between their enclosed palms. Had he miscalculated one of their anniversary dates? The blonde frantically racks his brain for answers but keeps drawing blanks and his stomach lurches as cold dread fills him. Had he truly forgotten one of their important relationship milestones? What day is today?

Before Jackson can guiltily confess that he honestly doesn’t know the answer Mark turns to him, eyes bright and expectant as he leans into the younger’s face.

“Today is the day we make new memories together!” The redhead sings. “Did you know that in the seven years that we’ve been together, we’ve had so many firsts on different days, but we haven’t had anything significant to commemorate 29th April yet?”

Jackson’s shoulders sag. “Yah, Tuan Yi En!” He whines to cover up his relief, reaching over to slap his boyfriend – lightly – on the bicep. “That’s so lame!”

“Oh yeah? Don’t think I didn’t see the look on your face just now, Wang Jia Er.” Mark giggles, and they make the turn into Seoul Forest. “You floundered. You really thought you forgot an anniversary, did you?”

Jackson chooses not to dignify that with a response. Mark laughs at his expense and bumps shoulders with him when he begins to sulk.

The park is greener now then the time they last visited in winter, the trees and fields less barren, pulsating with undertones of life. The nearly-midday sun is hanging overhead, basking them in warm golden rays that chase away the late spring chill. In front of them a brown squirrel darts across the path and scrambles up a nearby tree. Jackson coos at the adorably fluffy animal as it disappears from sight.

Mark inhales a lungful of fresh, crisp air that tickles his nostrils, smelling flora and earthy petrichor. “Ah, if only the cherry blossoms are still in bloom. It’ll be quite a sight.”

Jackson snorts, but he too looks captivated by the scenery. “Please, Yi-En, we’re nearing summer. Try coming here two months earlier next time.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” Mark shoots back, without bite, and drops their interlocked hands to walk ahead.

When the redhead turns he finds his boyfriend a couple of steps away, head snapping from side to side while being drawn in by every single moving object like a hyperactive puppy with a wondrous imagination and an extremely short attention span. There’s an aura of child-like innocence surrounding Jackson as he takes in his surroundings that makes him appear impeccably young. It takes Mark back to when he saw the blonde in the hallway on his first day of high school, positively glowing and bursting at the seams with positivity to spread despite being new to the environment. He was captivated then and, nine years later, he still is and the surge in his chest leaves Mark momentarily stunned.

The elder stares down at his sneakers, at the tongue of the left shoe that’s slightly askew and the scruffy shoelaces that hang undone – ever since they stepped out of the house in a rush.

The niggling feeling in his chest grows.

He’s made up his mind.

He takes a deep breath and gets down on one knee.

~~~

“Oh Yi-En, really, in Seoul Forest?” Jackson swoons. He clasps his hands together and holds it to his chest, as though to calm the erratic palpitations beneath his skin. “I’ve always known you’ve got a romantic streak when the timing calls for it but I can’t believe you actually brought me back to the place we had our first date to do this! That’s absolutely sweet of you. I love it!”

The blonde presses his palms to his rapidly heating cheeks. “Gosh, I really don’t know! I mean, you are the most wonderful boyfriend and I would love to marry you, honest to God, but I just can’t help but worry if we’re progressing too fast, you know? Sure, to some others five years of dating is more than enough, but I still feel that we might be too young to make such a huge commitment, if you know what I mean…”

“I'm definitely not rejecting you though, don't misunderstand! I would give everything to be married to you. And... You could say that I’ve been putting some extra thought into this over the past few weeks, ever since Jin Young and Jae Bum got married.” Jackson rambles on. “It also doesn’t help that you’re terrible at subtlety, so I figured out your plan quite some time ago. It definitely does not lessen the surprise by any bit though, and I’m still nervous as fuck right now, as you can tell. I’m even blabbering! Oh God, I never expected my marriage proposal to be right here on the street so I’m really thrown off my game. At least there aren’t any passer-bys or else I’ll really be shy, you know…” He trails off, growing increasingly self-conscious when the redhead still doesn’t say anything.

“Done!” Mark chirps and hops back to both feet, proudly wiggling his freshly-laced sneaker in front of the younger. “I figured I’d better tie my laces properly before we set off, seeing that we’re about to do a lot of walking.” The redhead whistles a light tune and skips down the path, unaware of the entire monologue that had just taken place. “You dragged me out of the house just now and then I promptly forgot about it.”

The elder turns around again when he senses no movement from Jackson and finds the blonde rooted to his spot, a bright red staining his cheeks. He gingerly approaches his boyfriend. “Hey, babe, you okay?”

It snaps Jackson out of his reverie and the younger scurries forward till he’s by his boyfriend’s side. Mark loops his arm around Jackson’s waist and pulls him close, pressing his palm to the other's cheek. “What’s up? Anything wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Why is your face so red?”

Jackson shakes his head furiously, dislodging the redhead's hand, but continues to keep his gaze low.

Mark eventually shrugs it off. It is impossible to get Jackson to do anything that he doesn’t want to – the kid can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes – so he decides to change the topic instead. “Were you saying something just now though? I thought I heard you mumbling when I was tying my shoe.”

“It’s nothing,” Jackson squeaks indignantly, and as he speeds up so that he’s brisk-walking ahead of Mark, he fails to notice the knowing smirk that spreads across his boyfriend’s face.

~~~

Lunch is a simple affair. Feeling peckish after collecting the car from Mark's apartment – who knew mere strolling would burn so many calories – they head over to Butterfinger Pancakes because a certain prince was craving for them.

“You know, if you wanted to eat pancakes you could’ve just told me. I would’ve made them for you instead of the American breakfast.” Mark tells the other after they placed their orders – triple choco pancakes for the blonde with a sweet tooth and a normal platter of buttermilk pancakes for the boring (Jackson’s own words) old man.

Jackson shrugs as he stirs syrup into his iced Americano. “I didn’t even know you were planning to come by early to cook this morning. I thought you were just going to pick me up and we’d go grab something on the way out.”

“You’re making me sound so domestic, like a housewife.” Mark suggests jokingly as he mirrors the younger’s actions. “Maybe we should start living together,” He says on a whim, chuckling in amusement at his own suggestion. “Then I can make you as many pancakes as you want, whenever you want.”

Here it is again, the careless manner Mark brings up commitment in casual conversation. It throws the blonde off who momentarily stills, fingers giving a traitorous twitch before he continues his ministrations. “Yi-En,” He whines a little too loudly, free hand somehow absently reaching for the syrup container again, “You know how I feel about cohabiting.”

“I know, I know. I was only kidding.” The redhead quickly intercepts the syrup before Jackson can give himself diabetes. “Enough, Gaga,” He berates the younger like a child and stores the container out of reach. “You’ve already ordered triple chocolate pancakes. Just thinking about all that sugar makes my stomach churn.”

“I like sugar,” The younger insists, adamant, but he stops trying to steal the sugar syrup from the other.

“That’s what you say now, but you’re going to steal my pancakes later when you find yours too sweet.” Mark retorts with a rolls his eyes, but when the dishes gets served he still caves in and lets Jackson have a portion of his food when the younger complains – like the redhead predicted – that his pancakes were “so goddamn sweet I’m going to die, and not in the good way”. He reached across the table and endearingly wiped away a dollop of chocolate sauce that got caught on the edge of Jackson’s mouth and licked it away, chuckling at the wide-eyed look the blonde gave him when he looked up with filled hamster cheeks.

They eventually stumble back to the car after the fulfilling meal and manage to buckle themselves in with much difficulty.

“I’m so full it feels like I’m going to explode,” Jackson groans, pulling at the seatbelt strap when it presses uncomfortably against his stomach. “Why did you let me eat so much?” He bemoans, the back of his head thumping against the headrest. “I’m going to become fat and even you won’t love me anymore!”

“You look fine, but I’ll still love you either way.” The redhead retorts and starts the engine and successfully manoeuvres themselves onto the highway. The scene beyond the window slow morphs, tall, narrowly-built concrete buildings in shades of grey melting away into shorter, more spacious ones and splotches of deep green as minutes ticked by. It’s clear they’re moving out of the city centre into the suburbs, but to exactly where Jackson still doesn’t know and the elder still refuses to tell.

The interior grows quiet without the blonde’s chatter, filled with only radio sounds and the engine’s humming. When Mark looks over to his right he sees Jackson jerking himself awake whenever he starts to doze off. The redhead laughs, amused by the younger’s adorably determined antics. “Jia Er, love,” He says gently, the corners of his mouth curling upwards as Jackson’s eyes shoot open at the call of his name and looks around blearily to survey his surroundings, “Take a nap. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“But I wanna see where we’re going.” Jackson argues stubbornly, even though his eyes are already beginning to slide close as he speaks. “Gotta make sure you don’t kidnap me.”

“You’ll find out when we arrive.” Mark reminds lightly. He lifts his hand off the gearshift and places it over his boyfriend's resting in his lap. “I know you’re tired; Auntie Sophia said you didn’t sleep much last night because of the biennial report you had to rush. Rest a while, okay? It’ll take some time before we get to our destination.”

“Fine, but you better not think about kidnapping me, okay?” Jackson mumbles, tongue heavy with sleep. “Jin Young will never forgive you if you abduct his best friend. Remember that.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Mark placates, rubbing soft circles into the back of the blonde's hand.

The last thing Jackson remembers is the cheesy nineties tunes blasting from the stereo and his boyfriend’s quiet mouthing of the cheesy lyrics as drifts off to sleep.

~~~

“Gaga,” Jackson thinks he hears Mark call softly, deep voice breaking through the white cottony haze filling his mind. The blonde opens his eyes slowly and blinks blearily at the scenery flashing by outside. “Baby, wake up. We’re almost there.”

The unfamiliar terrain leaves him disoriented because the last time he checked, the sun was still blazing overhead and not disappearing beyond the horizon. They’re approaching a city, its buildings are shorter and more evenly spaced out, the roads less congested and the air less polluted. It’s apparent that they’re out of Seoul, but he doesn’t realise just how far they’ve travelled until they pass by a road sign erected at the side of the nearly deserted highway.

“Gapyeong…?” Jackson demands incredulously when the characters register in his head, “You made us walk back to your apartment to fetch your car to drive to the smack middle of Gyeonggi province when we could’ve simply caught the subway and saved on the exercise?”

“Where we’re headed isn’t directly accessible by train. And I know just how much you equally loathe long bus rides.” Mark retorts. His eyes don’t leave the road when the GPS drones out monotonous instructions and his hand untangled from Jackson's and slides down to the gearshift to bring the car down to a lower gear as he turns off the highway. “Besides, I did the driving, all one and a half hours of it.”

“And who will be the next one stuck behind the wheel when said driver becomes too exhausted to make the drive back?” The blonde jerks a thumb at himself. “Me. That’s right.”

The elder smiles a sheepish grin. “Well, we can always rent a room at a random guesthouse and crash for the night if it gets late?” He suggests with a boyish grin that Jackson melts at and the issue of contention gets pushed to the back of his mind.

(Like he said before, damn Mark and his hypnotically flashy canines.)

~~~

Twenty minutes later Mark’s turning into the driveway and pulling into a carpark lot in front of Petite France. He hops off swiftly, the younger following suit, and they head to the ticketing office hand in hand. Once into the theme park the redhead doesn’t bother picking up a guide map and immediately starts walking. “I already know where I want to go,” He explains as he pulls Jackson closer to his side, hand sliding down to the small of the blonde's back. “It’s amazing and you’re going to love it so much.”

From to Town Square to the Doll House to the Butterfly Park they weave through the park, Jackson meekly trailing behind Mark along the winding red brick path as his boyfriend recites anecdotes on how excited he is to see visit the place, nodding at all the appropriate times and giving his input and laughing when he has to.

They veer from the main attractions and head uphill on the picturesque tarmac road, lined by vibrant orange spring flowers, that ends at a standalone tower. They enter and climb the stairs to the observation deck that displayed an unobstructed view of the entire hillside. “I was told this place has the best view of the entire village.” The redhead informs proudly as he drapes himself over the edge, fingers drumming a light rhythm against the windowsill as he takes in the scenery. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jackson eyes the houses, of a plethora of colours bathing in golden afternoon rays, narrowly packed next to each other on the hill. The park resembles the buildings in the backdrop of Jin Young and Jae Bum’s wedding pictures to a T, and for a minute the blonde lets his imagination wonder and he allows himself to be transported to Europe, fixing the lapels of Jinyoung’s tuxedo blazer and redoing his bowtie under the awning of the chapel’s front steps. He can feel it, the taste of salt on his skin and on his tongue, the smell of lavender permeating his lungs, but when he peels his eyes open he’s still in Korea, in a province on the outskirts of Seoul, last summer nothing but a fleeting, faraway dream.

He rests his folded arms against the rail, pillowing his head on his bicep. The waning sunlight casts a glowing halo around the crown of his blonde head and over his serene features. The younger looks like he’s shooting a pictorial by just being.

If life is a colour palette, Mark reckons Jackson would be the bright neons that immediately draw one’s eyes and capture their attention, the intensely pigmented shades people either take a liking to at once or never end up appreciating. There is never ambiguous neutrality when it comes to him, only distinct, dichotomous extremes. In the backdrop, the pastel hues of the houses pale in comparison to the vibrancy Jackson is, brighter than a thousand suns. He doesn't look away when he catches the younger’s wandering gaze.

“It really looks like a mini version of Provence, doesn’t it?” Mark says dreamily, voicing out the blonde’s exact thoughts. “Imagine if Jae Bum and Jinyoung held their wedding here instead. They could’ve gotten all the same greatness for a tenth of the price but no, they had to blow half a million dollars to organise the event halfway across the world.”

The blonde shrugs, head bobbing due to the slight movement of his shoulders. “Well, Jae Bum hyung’s loaded. $500,000 to him is like 50,000KRW to us common folk.”

“Maybe we should get married here then, at the knock-off version of the real thing.” Mark snorts, giggling at his own joke. “Budgeted Provence for budgeted us.”

Jackson can’t help but wince, internally, at the mention of the taboo word. After the initial embarrassment the younger hadn’t dared to get his hopes up again. Despite Jackson already telling his traitorous heart not to get his hopes up since Mark clearly never intended on doing anything more other than to have a fun day out, and the metaphoric balloon in his chest deflates a bit more with each further step taken.

“Sweetheart?” Mark calls. Jackson snaps out of his reverie and realises he’s fallen behind, steps somehow slowing as he got lost in his mind’s ramblings. He shakes off the uncomfortable feeling, pasting a bright smile on his face, and runs up ahead.

~~~

It’s completely impromptu and unplanned how they find themselves in Nami island, half an hour and a ferry ride later. It’s not completely crazy, the elder had told the other when they climbed back into the car, since we’re already here, just why the heck not? The last time they’d visited the island was over four years ago, on their first anniversary, and it would be fun to see how the place has changed since. A shrug from the blonde was the only confirmation needed and Mark whisks them away.

The sun is slowly disappearing below the horizon now as they step off the boat and onto the wharf, painting the land in golden yellow. They wrap their coats tighter around themselves, air having turned chilly with the ebbing warmth, as they pause by the information board and take in the various areas marked on the map, from cultural villages to hotels to famous filming locations.

“Hey, let’s go all the way to the back where it’s secluded. We haven’t been there before; it’s called Lover’s Woods.” Mark tells Jackson suggestively as he jerks his chin at the area located Southeast on the island, a mischievous glint in his eye that causes the blonde to flush and duck his head shyly, and the elder tugs on their connected hands and breaks into a sprint. They’re giggling as they weave through the returning crowd, calling haphazard apologies over their shoulders as they chase each other down the pine tree lane and through the gingko tree lane. Their shadows follow them with every stride they take, browned leaves crunching below the soles of their shoes.

Their faces are flushed from exertion and the biting cold and their breaths short as they enter the looming shade of the majestic Cyprus forest and collapse against the trunk of a tree next to each other, but their eyes are bright. Mark looks over to his boyfriend, blonde hair artfully tousled by the wind, chest heaving and loud pants escaping his mouth as he looks straight back, and reaches over to pull Jackson in. He leans in and presses his lips to the blonde’s, conveying the emotion heavy in his chest that he can’t express in words.

They find their spots in each other, Mark’s arms around the blonde’s waist and the latter’s snaked around the redhead’s neck and cradling his face. Jackson’s standing between the elder’s feet, on his toes, as their mouths move in fervent synchrony. There’s a single trail of saliva linking their slick mouths when they break apart and their cheeks are even warmer than before. The atmosphere between them is electrifying and Jackson looks so sated Mark wants to kiss him senseless again.

“Yah, we’re in public.” The blonde berates, giving the other a rough shove on the shoulder to mask his embarrassment and turns away. “What was that for?” He demands, but the wide grin that threatens to split his face gives him away.

“I love you,” Mark says candidly, canines sinking into his kiss-swollen lower lip as he fiddles with his coat pockets. “I haven’t told you that today so I’m telling you now.”

“I love you too?” The elder isn’t usually this vocal with his affection and when he does it’s silly how Jackson goes all red and tongue tied like a teenage girl.

“Hey, Gaga,” And then the redhead suddenly goes all quiet again; which honestly isn’t too abnormal, to be honest – when he’s almost constantly around an energiser bunny like Jackson there isn’t a need for another talkative person; one party has to do the listening somehow – but this is an abrupt pause that disrupts the flow of their conversation, and the blonde can’t help but turn back to check on his boyfriend.

But when he turns around he finds Mark down on one knee again, except this time the redhead has a ring box cradled between the palms of his hands and hope gleaming in his eyes. The blonde barely muffles the sharp intake of air behind both hands he slaps over his mouth. “Y-Yi En!” The younger boy gasps.

“Hey,” Mark begins shyly. He has a wobbly smile plastered on his face but the telltale knowing of his lower lip tells Jackson the elder’s heart is hammering in his chest as erratically as his own is.

“Jia Er, you’re not perfect.” The redhead takes a deep breath. His nostrils flare just slightly, and he allows his eyes to flutter shut. Jackson’s so fixated on every minute fluctuation of Mark’s face that his mind almost doesn’t process the next few sentences that spill from the elder’s mesmerisingly glossy lips. “You’re obnoxiously loud all the time, even at 7 in the God damned morning when you’re Skypeing me ad you get ready for work, for someone who claims not to be a morning person. You’re headstrong and independent and impulsive and stubborn, always acting so tough, yet that just makes you even more fragile and breakable than anyone else.”

“Gaga, you’re the most exceptional, beautiful and amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re an energiser bunny and a ray of sunshine to everyone you meet. You wear your heart on your sleeve and bare your emotions even though it leaves you vulnerable. It stirs in me an overwhelming instinct to protect you from all the nasties in the world. You make me want so many things; you make me want to believe in this ridiculously stupid notion called soulmates because as incredibly cheesy and clichéd as it sounds I know there’s no one else in the world that’s made for me the way you are. You make me want to be a better man for your sake and you make me want to give you my everything.”

Mark looks up at the younger with a blindingly beautiful smile. “You make me so, so happy, Gaga, and I want to do the same to you.”

“I might not be the easiest person to get along with; I’m too brutally honest and a terrible conversation partner and starkly unromantic to the extent this will probably be the first and last time I’m pulling off such an over-the-top stunt, but I’ll always be the person who will love you more than anyone else in this world. On our first anniversary I promised never to make you shed a tear. Will you give this pauper a chance to prove myself to his king for the rest of our lives? Wang Jia Er, will you marry me?”

“You stupid, you already broke your promise.” Jackson complains in between unattractively loud and messy sniffles. He brings a hand up and roughly wipes at his swollen eyes and ruddy cheeks, smearing the thin layer of powder he has on his face. Mark thinks he has never seen anyone more beautiful. “You’re already making me cry even before we get married. How am I supposed to hold you to your word?”

The redhead does not miss the implied meaning of the other’s words. His eyes light up and his ears metaphorically perk up like a puppy’s, body naturally gravitating towards the other. His grin is so wide it nearly splits his face. “Is that a yes?”

“Must you seriously make me answer out loud? It’s embarrassing!” Jackson whines, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes to staunch the last of his tears. “Yes, okay? I’ll marry you, you asshole.” Mark gets to his feet and pulls the love of his life into his arms. The younger protests, a futile attempt, before conceding defeat and moulding into the elder’s warmth with a content sigh. “I can’t believe you tricked me.”

“That’s because, babe, you don’t rush perfection.” Mark plants a kiss on Jackson’s cheek, chaste yet tender. “Silly, did you really think I’ll leave you hanging after all the clues I’ve been deliberately leaving around?”

Jackson opens his mouth, ready to protest, before closing it again and instead chooses to fume silently, eyebrows furrowing and plush lower lip jutting out into a pout.

Mark takes the ring out from the velvety box – a simple platinum band with a single Aquamarine embedded in it – and slides it onto Jackson’s ring finger. It sits comfortably at the bottom of his finger, a perfect fit; his not-so subtle measuring hadn’t gone to naught. The redhead gently cradles the younger’s hand and presses his lips to the back of it for good measure before holding it up to admire the way the shade of tarnished silver compliments Jackson’s skin tone. “It suits you so well.” The elder hums.

“It’s tight,” Jackson laments as he pulls his hand away to rotate it against the light, mesmerised by how the turquoise rock glistens under the waning sun rays. “How am I supposed to take it off?”

“That’s the thing; you don’t. You’re mine from now till forever, got it?” Mark holds up his own left hand where an identical band – Jackson hadn’t even noticed – sat on his ring finger, embedded with, instead of the younger’s birthstone, a Sapphire the colour of deep azurite.

“Yi En,” Jackson whines, voice nasally, “Don’t say stuff like that.” A second round of waterworks spring to his eyes before he can reign in his emotions. “You’ll make me fall in love with you even more.” Though he doubts it isn’t possible because if he were to be filled with any more love for the elder, the blonde thinks he’ll explode into messy fireworks of glitter and stars.

“That’s the plan though,” The redhead laughs, bright and mellifluous. “I can’t have you running out of love for me anytime soon now, can I?” Mark teases, pads of his thumbs gently brushing away the pearlescent rivulets falling from the younger’s beautifully glossy eyes.

Jackson is so God damn breathtaking.

He’s an enigma, a never-before ventured mystery forest waiting to be explored and its alluring secrets unraveled thread by thread. There’s simply too much about Jackson that Mark still can’t comprehend and he doesn’t know where to begin.

Luckily for Mark though, he’s got the rest of his life to figure his (soon-to-be) husband out.


End file.
